Riggerson: Time's Up!
by Madame Weeping Bell
Summary: Someone's stolen one of the gears in Big Ben! The mayor of London has personally asked Riggerson to take the case, although it seems like he's sabatoging the investigation. Can Riggerson expose the real criminal before he runs out of time? -On hiatus, sorry!-


**_Riggerson Series  
>June 6, 1943<em>**

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><p>It was a peaceful day in the city. A little raccoon wearing a fedora stepped along a sidewalk leading into a park.<p>

Riggerson stopped and read the giant sign above the gate. It said Central Park. The raccoon smiled as locals greeted him.

Riggerson was well-known all over America, solving crimes and putting criminals in their place. He was the detective everyone counted on. Riggerson had stopped murderers, recovered stolen things, and even joined a gang to destroy them from the inside.

The sun was still rising overhead as Riggerson sat on one of the cold metal benches and pulled out a composition notebook. He wrote:

_June 6th, 1943_

_The Grand Theater has been destroyed. After I found out who the thieves were, the whole service was unable to stop the explosion. I offered a construction service in which my friend Skips is employed. They gladly accepted and the Anderson Group of Games was broken up. Job well done, Fists!_

After completing the entry, one of the employees at Riggeron and Co. approached the raccoon and said, "Fists, Alexander Malone, the mayor of London, called. He needs your help immediately!"

Riggerson sighed. "Crime never ceases, does it, Mordecai?" I'll call him by noon."

The employee now known as Mordecai nodded quickly and sat with the raccoon.

"What exactly does Malone need?"

"One of the gears in Big Ben is missing. It stopped working!"

"I better call him back immediately, then. Come, Mordecai. Oh shoot!" Riggerson stopped as he added, "I promised I'd help Margaret find her jewelry today."

"But doesn't _Big Ben_ come before fancy jewels?"

"You have a point. Mordecai, please go tell Margaret that something has come up and that I cannot help her today."

"Yes, sir." Riggerson knew that Mordecai liked Margaret, so he sent the blue jay to her house whenever he could.

The raccoon arrived at the big brick building that was Riggerson and Co. He fumbled around for the keys and unlocked the building. Once inside, he turned the closed sign to open and moved about like he was underwater. The other employees trickled in from opening to somewhere around 9:30. And when Riggerson was on an international case, the agency remained closed until he returned.

As usual, two others were already there. Since the building housed two people on the uppermost floor, Riggerson had to agree to let them work there to let the business stay. Although they were not actual detectives-in-training, the two were middle-men in getting the messages to Fists.

"Good morning, Benson, Pops. I'm assuming the agency survived another night?"

"There was a gas leak in the second floor last night, but we got Mitch Sorenstein and that ghost friend of his to fix it," a gumball machine replied. "Everything else checked out A-OK."

"Good, good. Listen, Alexander Malone called this morning, the mayor of London? He said that one of the gears in Big Ben is missing and he needs the world's best detective to help out. I'm not going alone, so I'm taking Mordecai and Benson. Pops, I need you and Skips to watch the agency while we're gone."

Benson smiled. "London, eh? Maybe you'll see that Eileen girl there. She seems to take a fancy to you."

"That mole? I hope so, I don't want it to be just us there this time. It's not fun being in China and not knowing any Chinese. Do you know how hard that case was to solve?"

"I can only pretend. Benson was going to put up a new brown board of paper samples of your puzzle thinkies while you were gone. I guess that will have to wait." Pops, the only one who had not spoken, looked downcast as he glanced at a bare area on the wall.

"Well, while we're away, you can put it up and have it ready to show me when we get back." Riggerson smiled as he too looked at the spot.

Mordecai arrived later in the day as Riggerson was filling out some papers he needed for the trip. "Margaret said that she could wait until we got back to look for her things."

Riggerson only glanced up and grunted before going back to his paperwork. He never completely responded to this kind of news. Although he appreciated that Margaret could wait, Riggerson did have more important things to do. Namely Big Ben.

"Mordecai, could you go down to the general store and get our passports renewed? I need to get some papers validated." Riggerson tucked his papers in his trench coat pocket.

The blue jay sighed as he left the agency. No one at Riggerson and Co. could ever remember where the store was. It was newish and every time someone learned the location, it seemed to move. One of Mordecai's friends worked there, a ghost every one called HFG or Fives. He was well-known around the city too. HFG ran the most popular radio station in New York. He had Riggerson on regularly to talk about his latest cases.

But between he and Fives, Riggerson gave Fives inside info not released anywhere else. He kept it in confidential files, locked tight in his vault. Some of it actually leaked once, and the company found that the information was missing. But, we're not here to talk about that, now are we?

(linebreak)

Riggerson returned to the agency to find the doors locked. On the doors was a note that read, "Fists, went to get more push pins. Pops lost them all. -Benson."

The racooon shook his head and smiled. Though he loved Pops, he never let him go on international cases because of his childish outlook on everything. As he slowly walked into the building, Riggerson wondered if Alexander Malone had called again. Probably not, since no one did after Riggerson agreed to take the case. He was fine with that, though. Now, word gets around the city fast when Riggerson accepts a new case, mind you, so no one calls after it's known that Riggerson is about to leave to solve a new mystery.

Riggerson moved about as if he were underwater as he so often did at the agency. He loved what he did, and didn't bother hiding it. The little brown raccoon looked at one of the billboards already hung. Some of the headlines read:

_"Fists foils the Anderson Group of Games!"_  
><em>"Riggerson stops the 7th Street Men!"<em>  
><em>"The murder of Denver McGill is solved thanks to Fists!"<em>  
><em>"Fists foils the Anderson Group of Games again!"<em>  
><em>"Riggerson strikes again!"<em>

There were at least two dozen more that I'm not getting into right now for the sake of time. As Riggerson reminisced, the phone was busy ringing its clock off. The raccoon took no heed until he heard the door open. "Benson, Pops. When do you think it'll be time for us to retire?"

"Why retire when you're doing something you love?" Benson smiled. "It's not a job if you love it."

"I guess you're right. I've just been doing this for six years already and it's getting too monotone for me. I'm ready for something different, you know what I mean?"

"Riggerson, you'd never give up on Fists, would you?" Pops whimpered as he set down his purchases. The phone had stopped ringing by now. Whenever Riggerson was in his office, no one touched the phones. They alwasy let Riggerson answer, and he ignored them half the time, so when the phone rang again, either Mordecai or Benson had to answer. Fists was better at punching than picking up the phone.

"I was born to be Fists. I just wanted to know, out of curiosity."

"Whatever you say, Riggerson."

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><p><em><strong>I can't wait to start on the third one, but I have to finish this one and the second one.<br>BYEZ GUYZ!**_


End file.
